


A phoenix in Westeros

by Bacner



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Dark Phoenix 2019, Game of Thrones (TV), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crossover, Drabble, Gen, Jean as Sansa, Jean is done with Westeros and Joffrey, Joffrey is a burning pile of crazy, King's Landing, Robert is no prize either, Sophie Turner rocks, Tea, Telepathy, dire wolf (Game of Thrones), sophie turner - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bacner/pseuds/Bacner
Summary: Jean is about done with Westeros, with Joffrey, and the rest of crazy shite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all characters belong to their respective owners.

“The gods have been kind to you, sweet Sansa… which is why I’m taking it upon myself to be extra cruel to you in their stead. Why you should have it all, when all I had was a dead mother, a cold, hard father, a tiny freak of a brother…and Jaime? Mah-ha-ha-hah!”

Jean Grey, aka the Divine Phoenix of Death and Rebirth, stared up at Her Grace, feeling that she was already done with this shit, let alone Joffrey, who was a burning pile of crazy, mentally speaking. “Your Grace?” she spoke aloud instead, watching Cersei deal with her first telepathic contact in her life and clearly not understanding what she was dealing with. “Is something wrong? You have fallen silent…”

“I’m fine,” Cersei shot Sansa/Jean a look. Considering that the latter has lost years from her life, inches from her height, and most of her curves, it was a very impressive look. “Why are you looking at me like that, child?”

“I, um, just understood that His Highness Prince Joffrey may be looking more like you than like His Grace, but regardless, he is his own person,” Jean replied truthfully: Joffrey really was his own burning pile of crazy, especially mentally. 

Cersei blinked and looked at the other woman; Sansa/Jean looked back at her with big green innocent honest eyes. 

“Right,” Cersei exhaled. “Thank you. You know, it’s hard – not too many people realize that…” she trailed away, paused, and grew thoughtful. “Tell you what, sweet Sansa – let’s go and have tea together, talk about… things, and people, and see what develops – what do you think?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Sansa/Jean curtsied. “Lead the way.”

And off they went.

End?


	2. Smell of King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's adventures in Westeros continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters.

King’s Landing was nowhere in sight yet, and Jean could already smell it – apparently, it smelled strong enough for a strong enough breeze to carry it all the way north, now that the royal party was south of the Neck. Frankly, it smelled disgusting, not that Sansa cared, not with Joffrey being so nearby. 

And why was Joffrey being so nearby to her? Because they were travelling to King’s Landing to get married.

And why were they getting married? Because Westeros was very much a man’s world, and Jean – or Sansa – was very much a woman. Well, a girl really, but certainly not a man slash boy slash anything vaguely man-shaped – i.e. Joffrey.

Joffrey… Joffrey was such a bundle of crazy, that Jean was almost scared of him, her telepathy and other mutant powers notwithstanding. She could handle him, loosely speaking, but-

-But after witnessing the metaphorical mutant witch-hunts back on Earth, Jean did not intend to experience a literal one here on Westeros, where everything was for keeps, and the stakes were – proportionally - even higher than they were back on Earth. So, something different, subtler, was required. Ergo – Jean’s telepathic management of Joffrey. Only-

-Only Joffrey was so insane, (to put it lightly), that nothing of his mentality and mindscape was human at all, (in a non-mutant manner… Jean hoped. Joffrey with mutant powers – any of them – was just awful). As a result, Jean’s management of Joffrey was much less precise, concise and anything good, really, than Jean would have wanted.

Case in point – right now. Joffrey was on a collision course with Arya and her current friend… what was his name? Hot Cake? Hot Sauce? Some Westeros’ names could be so ridiculous…but that was not the point – the point was that neither Arya nor her friend… (That was his name! Hot Pie! Really?)…nor her other friends were particularly happy to see Joffrey approach them, (flanked by Sandor the Hound and Jean slash Sansa and Lady). Given what Jean has learned of Joffrey via telepathy and personal experience, this was not promising to be anything good for anyone who was not Joffrey. Reacting quickly – and maybe too quickly – she mentally thrust into the cacophony of chaos that was Joffrey’s mind and just jabbed at some spot.

Immediately, Joffrey’s entire demeanor, direction, everything changed. He turned around, went back towards the royal caravan, (as Jean called it privately, in her mind), where he found a maid and proceeded to bugger her, in public.

Everyone cringed, (though Jean’s was at least partially pretence – she had figured out just what kind of a- thing that Joffrey was and wasn’t too surprised at what had happened, though she was appalled at what her actions had wrought, really). “Your Highness? Just what are you doing?” Neddard’s – father’s – voice was especially loud. “Robert! Your Grace!”

“What?” His Grace King Robert the First of his named popped from behind another wagon, in a state similar to Joffrey’s. “What is going on- oh. Son, good going, but next time, do it in a wagon, as I do it, not outside. Now, please apologize to lady Sansa-“

“Sorry, lady Sansa-“ Joffrey grunted, even sounding a bit like Robert.

“Good lad. Now Neddard, boys will be boys-“

Jean tuned His Grace out, as she saw Her Grace finally make an appearance, and her appearance, (pun intended), was frightening to behold on so many levels. Ergo, after this display of toxic masculinity, (Jean really had not expected this to occur), some female solidarity was needed, and so Jean came over and hugged Her Grace. Arya, (who had developed some sort of a bond with the older woman somehow – Jean wasn’t entirely sure as to how or why, but she didn’t care, as it was good for everyone involved, actually), followed suit.

“Thank you, girls,” Cersei did not even try to raise the issues of protocol or decorum or some-thing similar. “Now let’s go elsewhere. Your father and His Grace and His Highness have some things to talk about.” She firmly grasped both of the sisters around the shoulders and lead them away – neither Sansa nor Arya resisted.

…As they were passing by Ser Jaime, Jean snuck a look at the man in question. The Kingslayer looked as if he really wanted to live up to his moniker once again.

Not the end.


	3. Tea with the Kingslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned wants some answers; Jaime is willing to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: everyone belongs to Martin and to HBO.

Neddard was something of a loss here – well, more than usually, ever since he had accepted Robert’s job of being his Hand. Ever since he and his daughters had come south of the Neck – and bad things usually happened to Starks in the south – this feeling grew. Yet even so whatever he had expected, it was not this – Robert being even more of an asshole than he used to be when they were younger and Jon Arryn’s wards. Oh, Robert was an ass even back then, but at least back then he was dashing, (and they were fighting Targaryen forces to survive). Now, he was just an ass, and his eldest son was even worse, (and there were no Targaryens in sight).

Ned was certain that he had no illusions about… Joffrey, at any rate – during the royal stay at Winterfell everyone quickly realized that he was that stupid, as Arya put it, but Ned still assumed that Robert would be better than his eldest, right?..

Well yes, he was, but only because no one was as stupidly bad as Joffrey was, and somehow it only made Robert worse. And now Ned was working for him directly, (rather than from the North, which made it easier somehow to ignore His Grace, as impossible as that may sound), and his daughters were right in the middle of it all, and what was a father, a Lord Paramount, and a Lord Hand to do?

“Tea, milord?” the Kingslayer popped seemingly out of nowhere, moving silently as if he had feet of a cat – or, well, a lion, regardless of all the armor that he wore.

Ned looked askance at his new interlocutor. He never liked him, this hollow shell of a Kingsguard, but right now he didn’t want to argue with him – his temper was frayed after talking to Robert, and he really didn’t want to test his fighting skills against the Kingslayer – not now, not here.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he muttered, as he… accepted the flask and took a swig.

“Why, and how, and why again, do you have Northern travelling tea in your flask?” he spoke once he could speak again, having recovered from surprise. 

“It seemed like a good idea – His Grace has all the wine cornered for his own use anyhow,” the Kingslayer smiled, his own smile having an edge. However, Ned was an experienced man in his own right, and so he began to recognize that the edge was due to the tight and close regular interactions with His Grace, who was something else.

“Fair enough,” Ned exhaled. “Ser Lannister,” he began, even as he led the younger man away from their current position to his own position in the caravan. “I’m afraid that we need to talk, and that you need to answer some questions-“

“About what?”

“About a lot of things, starting with money.”

The Kingslayer winced. “I was afraid that you would raise this topic, but you’re talking to a wrong Lannister. You need to talk to uncle Kevan, who’s back in King’s Landing – he knows more about it than I do.”

“Do you really thought that it was a good idea – so many Lannisters around the king?” Ned asked practically despite himself. 

“No,” Jaime did not hesitate at once. “It was a bad idea, and so was marrying Cersei to him, and you can begin to see as to why for yourself.”

“What am I missing?”

“Once we get into King’s Landing proper, it will be worse.”

Ned paled.

_TBC_


	4. Spiced wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert dances with Lady. Not a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: everyone belongs to Mr. Martin and to HBO.

Once upon a time, there was a person named Neddard Stark, and he was in trouble.

Oh, sure, he was the Lord Paramount of the North and these days – Lord Hand of His Grace King Robert the First of his name, but this was the trouble: His Grace King Robert the First, etc. He appeared to have changed too much on the outside since his glory days during their anti-Targaryen rebellion on one hand, and too little on the inside – a dangerous mix, Ned was sure.

…Yes, Ned knew that he tended to worry overly much, but that had been his job as the Lord Paramount of the North, as well as the father of many children, he had more of them than Robert did, legitimate ones at least; bastards, for now, did not really count, but as for the legitimate ones…

Joffrey. Soon after he arrived to Winterfell as part of his father’s retinue, the entire castle became aware that Westeros’ current crown prince was **that stupid**, and for Ned, this was scary enough, because it meant that someone **that stupid **would be running the entire Westeros sooner or later, including the North- Ned didn’t want to think about it.

But now – this. On one hand, Ned did not like the idea that his up and coming son-in-law was not just an idiot, but also – a violent, unpredictable idiot rather than a more manageable one, (Ned was honorable, but he wasn’t naïve, you know?), and on the other? It seemed that during his tenure as the new king of all Westeros, the founder of a new dynasty, Robert himself became violent, and unpredictable… well, even more violent and unpredictable than when he and Ned were younger.

“There’s a reason as to why I never liked to think about my youth, about my stay under Jon’s guidance in the Vale,” Ned muttered, as he looked at his cup of hot spiced wine – he actually enjoyed an occasional cup of it in the North, but now and here, in Robert’s presence, he began to suspect that he would either abandon the booze almost for good, or become a fellow drunk to Robert – and that was worse.

“A pox on Lysa and her message,” Ned muttered. “If it wasn’t for that and Jon’s death I would’ve found a way to handle Robert and his menagerie, to send them back South, and to stay home up North…”

Ned looked away, trying to chase away an unwelcome realization that no one – not a Lannister, a Baratheon, no one associated with them or anyone else – wanted to deal Joffrey Baratheon on a regular basis, not if they could help it. There were quite a few Lannisters, or their bannermen, (as opposed to Baratheons, etc.), in the royal entourage, but Joffrey was not really accepting them as kin… and vice versa.

…Yes, if Joffrey was an unpredictable idiot no one sane would want to be associated with him, but, again, this was the most likely king that Westeros is going to have once Robert passes on, and this made Ned feel as if he was in trouble. He was not that much older than his own Robb was, when the last of the Targaryen kings killed his father and Bran in a fit of madness, and his Hand – whose name escaped Ned, that man had been that insignificant – did nothing to stop him.

Ned cared little for Tywin Lannister and his clan, but, still, he was beginning to realize that he could not afford to antagonize him either. He hated being the Hand! The Game of Thrones, his foot!

“Father?” Both of his daughters sneaked into his tent. “Are you-?”

“Yes, girls, I am,” Ned nodded, being painfully aware that this was the first time that he could have a proper time with his daughters in a long while – practically ever since the three of them left home for the rest of their lives, most likely. “Sorry that we haven’t been around to talk-“

“No problem,” Sansa said quickly, as Arya nodded her head in agreement, and Nymeria whined. “But you need to come with us – we think that Lady is in trouble!”

Ned blinked: the world was not making any sense and he was not even drunk.

“Father!”

/ / /

The king was dancing.

His Grace King Robert the First (etc., etc.,) was dancing. He was dancing with Lady; the lady in question was not one of the queen’s ladies, perhaps, but Lady as in Sansa’s dire wolf.

Now, a dire wolf may be no dragon, but it is still a formidable beast, even when not fully grown, (i.e. Lady), and no sane man would think of grabbing one by the forepaws, forcing it onto the hind legs, and well, breaking into a dance with her. Ergo, this was exactly what Robert did, (His Grace, etc., etc., you get the gist). He was forcing Lady to dance, and the poor dire wolf was well, confused, overwhelmed, and scared, because even in his diminished state, Robert still had most of his initial physical strength, and was, apparently, a proper match for a still immature dire wolf.

As Ned just stared, alongside the others, at His Grace’s latest… whatever you want to call it, Robert decided that he had enough and stopped. He released his grip on Lady long enough, for the dire wolf to drop on all four and run away, hiding behind Sansa for protection. Given their respective sizes, strength, and everything else, it was not very funny.

As Robert took a bow, (no, clearly, he was not that overweight or out of shape as Ned at first thought that he was), everyone began to clap.

“Thank you, thank you,” Robert accepted the applause as his due. “Now, where were we?.. Ned, are you clapping?..”

“Of course, but my hands are full,” Ned spoke quickly. He hated himself for it, but the look in Robert’s eyes… it was not a good one. “Spiced wine for the great dancer?”

“Ned, you shouldn’t have!” Robert instantly switched from wrath to benevolence, (then again, all Baratheons were known for their quick change of moods, as quick as the weather in their beloved Stormlands), and taking the entire spiced wine container, he drank deeply. “That’s good booze, Ned! Now where’s my dancing partner?”

“I’ve no idea, Robert,” Ned said quickly, “just my daughters and their pets-“ (The aforementioned daughters and pets vanished so quickly, that dust clouds were left in their trails).

“Ah, pity, pity,” Robert put down the decanter and shrugged. “Guess I will have to look for someone else…” he wandered away himself. 

Ned exhaled, feeling that he had missed a storm. Then he saw Her Grace coming over to him, and wondered if he was not prematurely optimistic: Cersei was clearly reminding him of Cat, whenever she was angry with him for doing something manfully stupid-

“Lord Hand,” Cersei Lannister said, clearly doing her best to restrain herself, “that was a very logical idea, what you just did, but I must warn you – it might take all of wine in Westeros just to make him tipsy!” and then she sashayed off.

Ned opened his mouth, and then closed it. He had nothing to say.

“Yeah, looks like your daughters are smarter than you are, Lord Neddard,” Jaime Lannister spoke from Ned’s other side, startling him. “In particular, they’re aware that Cersei is scared of both her husband and of Joffrey, especially in the future.”

“Quiet, please,” Neddard said quietly, but the other man fell quiet, albeit more out of curiosity than out of anything else. “I need to think and to bounce ideas of you.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “This is going to be interesting,” he mused.

_TBC_


	5. Intermission I - Melisandre and co.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...We actually learn as to how and why Jean ended up in Westeros. Hint: it involved the longest night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: see the previous chapters.

…When Melisandre, contrary to her custom (and faith), did not really resist Davos’ invitation to join him, lady Shireen, and lord Stannis at breakfast, all three of them knew that something was up. Judging that she was acting atypically awkward around Stannis, (and Selyse was nowhere in sight, to everyone’s relief, cough), the news were more ambiguous than pleasant.

“Lady Melisandre, what is it?” Stannis asked curtly, deciding that he did not want to waste di-plomacy here and now.

“Well, milord, remember when we talked last time, about the upcoming threat in the North and how we shall stop it?” Melisandre’s poise was stiff, tense, but she was not backing down either. “You were most distraught-“

“Yes, what of it?” Stannis snapped. “Don’t bandy words, woman-“

“Funny that you should mention words,” apparently, both of their tempers were rising at once. “Remembers yours from that discussion? You made a wish-“

“So what if I did-?”

“And the Lord of Light heard them, and judging them worthy. Your wish has been granted, my lord…just probably not how you expected them to be. The Lord of Light had brought a phoenix to Westeros to help us when the time is right!”

There was a pause in conversation, and Shireen filled it:

“Ser Davos, what’s a phoenix?” she asked, with authentic, bright curiosity.

“Well, your ladyship, a phoenix is a most marvelous bird,” the smuggler turned knight replied immediately. “No one knows exactly what it looks like, but people claim that it is shaped like a great falcon, or an eagle, with a fiery eyes and multicolored plumage!”

“The phoenix is a bird of living flame,” Melisandre added, but much gentler than when she and Davos usually argued. “It is an ally of the Lord of Light, but is beholden to no one, not even him-“

“Then how this phoenix is going to save us Westeros from the threat from the North?” Stannis snapped. “Come to think of it, how shall we find it? Go to King’s Landing and drape a banner, saying ‘Stannis anti-white walker crusade - both men and phoenixes are welcome’?”

There was a pause, and it was Davos, who broke it this time. “Well, why not, milord? King Robert’s new Hand, is from the North-“

“Yes, Neddard Stark, the previous Lord Paramount of the North,” Stannis said curtly, “and soon to be our relative, as Robert plans to marry Joffrey to one of Stark’s daughters-“

“I doubt that,” Melisandre said suddenly. “Joffrey is **that stupid**, you know, to hold onto a woman, any woman-!”

There was a pause as Stannis tried to find a proper counterargument to Melisandre’s statement, and could not find any: whether Lannister or Baratheon, Joffrey was **that stupid**. 

“I’m not going to argue over something that is simply obvious, lady Melisandre,” he finally decided upon a statement. “Yes, Joffrey is that stupid, just as Renly prefers men, but what’s the point?”

“The new Hand is from the North,” Melisandre pointedly raised her eyebrows. “You wanted a sign of the Lord’s support of you, well, here it is! Ser Davos claims that this Lord Stark is a competent man to begin with, and he will probably need allies in King’s Landing, and the rest of his family is back up North-“

“Humph,” Stannis grumped, but, clearly, to everyone present, he was considering it.

“Lord Stark has several sons, one of them is apparently close to lady Shireen in age,” ser Davos could not help but to add. “If push comes to shove, you and lady Shireen are as much Baratheons as your royal brother is, something can be worked out…”

“That could work!” Stannis spoke almost despite his restraint. “Lady Melisandre, please don’t take offense regarding your phoenix tale-“

“None whatsoever,” and indeed, the red priestess did not appear to be affected by Stannis’ statement at all, making Davos privately wonder as to what she was up to – the two of them usually did not get along. “Does that mean that we’re coming to King’s Landing-?”

“Yes,” Stannis said curtly. “We are. Start packing, we’ll take only a small train, we’re not Robert and his entourage-“

“Yay!” Shireen said happily. “We’re going to King’s Landing!”

There was a pause as her father blinked, met her eyes to big, excited, trusting eyes, and caved. “Yes, Shireen, we’re going to King’s Landing,” he said. 

_TBC_


End file.
